I keep replaying that night that we were watching movies on my couch in my head. I hadn't killed you with my cooking and the movie had hilarious moments where even though I'd seen it several times before your boisterous laugh contagiously pulled me in.
I don't know if you even remember or maybe it's just my mental remote stuck on pause or it needs new batteries as well but there was a moment when my right foot and your left leg touched.
My arms were wrapped around yours for warmth and my head was cradled perfectly on your shoulder. We stayed like this trapped on Couch Vesuvius well into the morning. It was close to perfect.
Thought-provoking subject matter was under discussion and presented. You were reciting free-flow of thoughts with the exact excitement and arduous extraction of a Forty-niner pulling out shiny self-realization nuggets. Not even James Marshall could deny the value. While you were anxious and talkative I was being lulled to sleep. Your monotone words, not to be mistaken for boring, sneaked into my ear and danced a soothing ballet of poetry. Like a disk jockey, your words were mixed with careful intermissions of short breathes, producing "Cheriebobomb's Somber Sleep Mix 2010". Not currently sold in stores but available for 2 easy payments of $19.99 if you call in the next ten minutes.
There was a brief, reflective possibly contemplative moment of silence.
I too had a hideen agenda.
I briefly turned my head and looked directly into the side of your eyeball.
I had an immediate, intense urge to kiss you.
However I was afraid the music would stop.
I was afraid it would be an unwelcome advance and everything would've been made too complicated.
Without having an inkling to date anyone in over a year I was just afraid. Period.
My butterflies were dancing and they in turn had house flys in their intestines who were jumping on a trampoline and even still they had even smaller gnats setting off bottle rockets in their bellies.
So instead I carefully wiped away a stray lash from your face.
Was this my Pompei?
The unknowing is the worst part.
No comments:
Post a Comment